


what the water gave me

by haleofStilesheart



Series: Emoji Prompts [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Beaches, Day At The Beach, First Kiss, Getting Together, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Insecurity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haleofStilesheart/pseuds/haleofStilesheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beach was the ideal getaway destination when northern Californian summers got too hot.<br/>Except if you were Stiles.<br/>He hated the beach. <em>Hated<em> it.</em></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	what the water gave me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



> For the prompt:  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> [Send me emojis!](http://hale-of-stiles-heart.tumblr.com/)

The beach was the ideal getaway destination when northern Californian summers got too hot.

Except if you were Stiles.

He hated the beach.  _ Hated _ it. 

His pale skin never tanned, only burned no matter how much sunscreen he applied. It was always overcrowded, families of overcompensating middle-aged parents with their obnoxious children running around crazy. It was too loud, those same insufferable kids constantly, seagulls squawking incessantly.

He hated it.

The fact that he was there with a pack of supernaturally attractive Abercrombie and Fitch swimsuit models didn’t help, either. 

They were all gorgeous, distractingly so as apparent by the constant looks sent their way by other beach-goers, their perfect tan skin glistening in the sunlight. No matter how much time they spent in the softly crashing waves or laying in the sand, their hair remained perfect, looking as though they had personal stylists at the ready. 

Altogether, they looked like a Baywatch rerun.

And Stiles felt like a pasty loser.

Rather than hang out with his friends in the water where Allison and Kira were splashing each other or join in the game of volleyball Erica had started, Stiles lounged in a rope hammock strung up between two palm trees in the shade, rocking gently while playing a game on his cellphone. He was still wearing his t-shirt despite the stifling heat of the day, refusing to remove it and further embarrass himself. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like the way he looked, it was just that, well, he didn’t exactly love it.

He knew he was skinny―one hundred and twenty seven pounds to be exact―with a somewhat fair amount of muscle. He knew he had moles scattered generously across his skin, too generously in his opinion. He knew that objectively he wasn’t  _ that _ unattractive, but he also knew he wasn’t as good-looking as his friends. 

It was something he had come to terms with.

But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

It was one thing to constantly live with the insecurity, the feeling of inadequacy, when he was around the pack, but it was quite another to be faced so bluntly with the stark reality. 

Erica was scantily clad in an itty bitty black bikini, absolutely radiating confidence and sex appeal. Kira was wearing a more sedate cherry blossom patterned bikini, looking demure and adorably cute. Allison was wearing a dark purple bikini, looking athletic and entrancing. Lydia, of course, was wearing the highest quality name brand bikini in a pale pink color. 

And while they all looked like a gang of dangerous, badass supermodels, it was the guys that made him feel truly inadequate. 

They were all shirtless, washboard abs and Adonis chests on blatant display for all to see, sweat rolling down their toned backs. In his bright turquoise Hugo Boss swim shorts, Jackson looked like their newest model. Boyd was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome in his dark navy shorts. 

Scott and Isaac, both wearing vivid red swim shorts, looked like a pair of surfer models. Even Peter looked good in a pair of dark gray swim trunks, a thought that Stiles quickly pushed aside as too weird to dwell on.

But Derek, well Derek looked like a Grecian god. 

And then there was Stiles in his oversized baggy t-shirt and his swim trunks, skinny and sweaty in the most unattractive of ways. 

Regardless of the coaxing and goading from Scott and Isaac to join them in trying to surf, and the teasing from Erica and Peter about how sunlight didn’t actually burn, he remained firm in his endeavor to make it through the day without baring any more skin until the pack saw fit to go home. He’d already made it through two hours. Portable phone chargers were lifesavers.

He’d considered leaving early, simply getting in Roscoe and driving home to lounge around in bed, eat an entire carton of ice cream single-handedly, and crank the AC. But that would only draw more attention to himself and the last thing he wanted was to have to explain why he’d left, why he was acting so oddly. He had already gotten questions about why he was being so uncharacteristically quiet. 

He’d simply chalked it up to not feeling too good―not a lie―and waved off their concern. He continued tapping away on his phone, resolutely trying to ignore the world around him.

“Hey,” a voice greeted.

“Hey,” he echoed automatically, not looking up from his phone. Belatedly realizing that someone was talking to him, he dropped his phone in his lap and turned to see who was addressing him, when he saw it was Derek he mumbled, “M’sorry, what?”

Derek snorted, shaking his head a bit before reiterating, “I asked if you wanted to go for a swim.”

“Oh,” Stiles acknowledged. “Uh, no thanks. But you go ahead.”

“You sure?” Derek asked, brow furrowing. 

“Yeah, man,” Stiles returned, an unconvincing grin stretching his lips. Derek folded his arms over his chest, settling his hip against the trunk of the palm tree by Stiles’ feet. He raised his brows at Stiles, clearly detecting that something was amiss. Stiles shrugged and confessed, “I just don’t really like the beach that much.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Derek asked, concern etched into his features. Stiles shrugged again. Derek gave him a blank no-nonsense look. 

Stiles sighed and conceded, “Everyone was so excited about going to the beach. I didn’t wanna ruin it.”

“You wouldn’t have ruined anything,” Derek assured softly. Stiles just shrugged again, still feeling guilty. Derek reached up to scratch the back of his neck as he suggested, “I think I have a book in my bag, if you get bored. Just help yourself, alright? Now I’m gonna go show them how beach volleyball is  _ really  _ played. Holler if you need anything.”

Stiles nodded, offering a small smile as Derek straightened up. Derek sent him a wide grin as he walked over to where most of the betas were engaged in an intense game of volleyball, jumping in on Boyd and Erica’s team. 

_ They match _ , Stiles thought idly, eyes scanning over Derek’s black swim trunks that matched Erica’s black attire. 

His thoughts quickly turned lascivious as his eyes tracked the beads of sweat sliding down Derek’s chest and abs toward the dark line of hair trailing down under his waistband. He thought about how Derek’s skin would taste if he dragged his tongue up those hard abs, down those enticing V-lines, over the swell of his pecs. 

Violently shaking himself out of his reverie before his thoughts turned too lewd, Stiles blinked rapidly, quickly averting his gaze and trying to will away the blush he felt blooming on his cheeks. He found himself unable to focus on whatever he was playing, the repetitive motions not satisfying his brain’s need for stimulation.

Before long he was digging through Derek’s bag, rifling through his belongings in search of the aforementioned book. He noticed a familiar pair of aviators hooked on the side of the bag, musing that such bright sunlight couldn’t be good, or comfortable, for sensitive werewolf eyes. He also noticed, curiously enough, a bottle of sunscreen and a bottle of aloe in the bag, wondering why exactly would carry them when their healing factor prevented any sun damage. To keep up appearances in public?

He finally found the book after tucking his phone, and charger, in the bag beside Derek’s, hoping the alpha didn’t mind much considering he was holding Stiles’ keys already. He couldn’t help but smirk at the anchor charm on Derek’s keychain. It had been a Christmas present from Stiles who had seen it online one night while scrolling through wikipedia and immediately bought it. It was nice to see that Derek was actually using it and hadn’t just thrown it away or let it collect dust. 

Grabbing a soda from the cooler, Stiles turned to the book over to read the back cover. It was nonfiction, a study on sharks and their habits. It immediately caught Stiles’ interest.

He sent a wave Derek’s way as he walked back to the hammock, watching the entrancing ripple of muscles in Derek’s back as he bumped the ball back over the net to Jackson. 

Stiles was immediately absorbed into the book, fascinated by the subject matter which sought to dispel myths and misconceptions about sharks being mindless man-eating monsters. An appropriate read for Derek. 

So immersed in the book, Stiles failed to notice the passage of time, not realizing how late it had gotten until Kira pointed out the sunset. His head jerked up in surprise, having not even noticed the change in temperature or light, eyes widening as he watched the orange sun sink down behind the gentle lull of the  waves.

“Wow,” he whispered in awe, his comment attracting Derek’s attention.

“Yeah. I would’ve gotten your attention but you seemed pretty into the book,” Derek teased, walking over to the hammock. 

Stiles felt himself blush and looked down at the book in his lap that he was almost finished, only a few more pages left. “Oh, yeah well it’s pretty interesting.”

“C’mon, we’re gonna have a bonfire,” Derek invited, nodding his head to where Peter and Boyd were setting up sticks and kindling for a fire. Stiles closed the book, making a mental note to borrow it later to finish, and followed Derek back to the circle the others had formed around the makeshift fire pit.

He returned the book to Derek’s bag before taking a seat in the sand between Derek and Isaac. After Boyd tossed a match into the kindling, a fire flaring to life, they all watched the fire, a small radio playing beside Scott. 

A quick scan of the pack showed all the couples cuddling, arms thrown around each other, holding each other tight. A pang of jealousy struck Stiles in the chest as he hugged his knees to his chest. Guilt quickly followed.

Before he was able to fall into a spiral of guilt and shame, Derek nudged his shoulder and whispered, “C’mon.”

Stiles eagerly stood and followed Derek without question as he led him away from the pack. Figuring they were just going on a leisure stroll along the beach, Stiles wasn’t concerned. However once they were so far from the pack that only a tiny pinprick of light could be seen, Derek began walking toward the waterline. Stiles bit his lip, uncertain is he should follow.

Derek looked over his shoulder at Stiles, quietly breathing, “C’mon.”

Stiles followed him, still unsure. He waded into the water behind Derek, gratefully taking his proffered hand. They walked up to their waists before stopping, Derek moving to stand behind Stiles. He sidled up behind him, very cautiously curling his arms around Stiles’ waist and resting his cheek on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Derek…?” Stiles whispered breathily, voice cracking as he spoke, goosebumps erupting across his skin. 

“Is this okay?” Derek mumbled softly, tensing. Stiles nodded minutely and Derek continued, “I know why you don’t like the beach.”

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat.

“I asked Scott. I’m sorry. I wish you’d said something, but I understand why you didn’t. It’s okay,” Derek explained, tilting his head to rub his nose against the side of Stiles’ neck. “I just-I just wanted to let you know that you’re beautiful.”

“Derek… Stop…,” Stiles muttered, trying to maintain his composure. Derek began unwrapping his arms from around Stiles’ waist, lifting his head. But Stiles touched his hands to Derek’s forearms and pulled them tighter around himself.

“Don’t…” he trailed off and sighed heavily, steeling himself. “Don’t say that. Not if-Not if you don’t really mean it.”

“I do,” Derek breathed softly, lips brushing over the skin of Stiles’ shoulder. 

Turning in Derek’s arms, terrified that he might be making a dire mistake, Stiles cupped Derek’s face in his hands and leaned in to kiss him. Derek immediately held him tighter, kissing him back fiercely. Stiles clutched Derek to him, afraid that he would turn and run as soon as their kiss was over. He had acted on impulse and experience had shown that such often ended horribly.

Reluctantly pulling back, unable to meet Derek’s gaze instead staring at his chest, Stiles softly whispered, “Thank you.”

And beneath the light of the stars and the moon, waist deep in the cold water of the North Pacific, Derek leaned forward and kissed him again. 


End file.
